


From My House to Yours

by Minervas Soul (songbook), songbook



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Gen, Hogwarts Professors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songbook/pseuds/Minervas%20Soul, https://archiveofourown.org/users/songbook/pseuds/songbook
Summary: The Ravenclaw's Silence; The Hufflepuff's Stand; the Gryffindor's Fight; the Slytherin's Choice.Four houses; one school. Four different views of life at Hogwarts under Headmaster Snape; one outcome to show them all it was worth it.Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, Minerva McGonagall, and Horace Slughorn may be the epitome of each of their respective houses, but they all have one goal in mind: keeping their students safe.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 28





	1. The Ravenclaw's Silence

**Author's Note:**

> I began this story years ago and felt compelled to rewrite it. I deleted the old story to get a fresh start. I hope you can all enjoy this study of the different Head of House's during Deathly Hallows.

_July 3, 1997_

Filius Flitwick groaned as he sat up in his bed and placed a small hand on his forehead. The pain potion he had been taking before going to sleep the last few nights had begun to wear off. He wondered if the ache in his head was from the spell Snape had used or if it was all in his mind. Perhaps a physical manifestation of his guilt? A guilt he knew he shouldn’t be carrying, but one he carried, nonetheless. He had fetched Snape from the dungeons that night – and Snape had killed Albus Dumbledore.

With a groan, the Charms professor slid off his bed to don a pair of black dress robes that he always reserved for funerals. There was no denying the number of years he had been on this earth and Filius had been to his fair share of funerals. This one, he feared, would be one that would weigh on his mind for the remainder of his life. With one last look in the mirror, Filius left his quarters to face the day.

The Great Hall was decorated in black for the occasion. The house elves had outdone themselves this time with the décor. Hogwarts was ready for the stately funeral to come. At the head table, Minerva McGonagall, Poppy Pomfrey, and Horace Slughorn were already at their respectable places at the head table. Albus’ chair sat empty. And as the rest of the staff filled in for breakfast, Snape’s remained that way as well.

The students kept their chatter to a murmur today. It had been so silent the last few days at the school. It was as if all the merriment and hope had fallen from the tower with the Headmaster. Even at his own table, the staff barely spoke. Not that they needed to. Their grief was mutely understood between them.

As the meal came to an end, Minerva stood to speak. She seemed to be holding herself together better than most and she spoke calmly to the students in front of them. His heart broke a little as she steeled herself to lead her Gryffindors out of the Great Hall and out onto the lawn. With a deep breath, he tried to channel her strength as he walked around the table to guide his sorrowful Ravenclaws out next.

A few first years were already beginning to cry, but the older students were taking them under their wings. Such innocence, Filius thought, as he watched the students, the majority of which were underage, support each other in their grief. It was truly the spirit of Albus that brought these children together like this. The thought caused a lump to form in his throat and the feeling did not go away when the Hogwartians began filling their seats among the many friends, diplomats, and he daresay, followers of the great Albus Dumbledore.

When the Ravenclaws were seated in their respectable places, Filius found his own chair next to Pomona Sprout. She was gently sniffling into her sleeve. Her robes didn’t have a spec of dirt on them for once, he noted with a small smile. Pomona thought the world of Albus, they all did. He took out his handkerchief and handed it to her.

“There, there, my dear. We shall get through this day like any other without Albus. It is the beginning of many, I am afraid,” he said kindly as he patted her softly on the knee.

“I know…” she replied with a tearful sigh, “But he’s still gone. It’s hard to imagine Hogwarts going on without him. And the students…”

She was overcome with grief and Filius had no reply. He felt his own tears coming as the funeral began. But his tears were not just for Albus or the students, now lost without their Headmaster. His tears were for the war, which was looking very grim indeed; for Harry Potter, who was not only a witness to the dreadful murder, but was also carrying the weight of protecting them all now; for Severus Snape, the one they lost; and for himself, for the loss of a most dear colleague and friend.

_August 10, 1997_

The summer found Filius in his home in the magical community of Turning Stone. He and his late wife, Cornelia, had made their home here almost forty years ago. Cornelia had always been of ill health, so the little cottage they had bought was the perfect place for her to relax. Filius had always felt guilty when he left for weeks at a time while working at Hogwarts, but she had been so happy here. Cornelia had told him once that this beautiful place always reminded her of their love, so she would hardly miss him when he was gone.

They had never had children due to her ailing health. So for their fifth wedding anniversary, Filius had gifted her a kitten. Cornelia thought their little kitten got lonely sometimes, so they got another one. Then a ferret; an injured Driricawl; a few toads; a half dozen chickens; and a fat hog for good measure. One of their trees was home to a family of bowtruckles and for a few years Cornelia raised a poffle of puffskeins. Their home had always been full of energy and living, breathing things.

Cornelia had died about ten years ago, but Filius never let anyone pity him for the loss of his beloved wife. When Cornelia had been born, the medi-nurses had told her parents she would not live past the age of eight. Then they thought, not past thirteen. Suddenly, they had been married for almost forty years when she was given three weeks to live. Filius guessed she was finally tired of holding on. She hated being weak and sick, so when she passed away, it was with an understanding heart that Filius buried his wife.

Today, he was sitting in front of an empty fireplace in silence with a book in his hands. It was entitled _Charms of Mine_ , and had always been a personal favorite of Cornelia’s. He made sure to read it at least once a year, and as his school year was rather busy, the summer was the only time he could dedicate the time he thought it deserved. It was only mid-afternoon, but he could feel himself drifting in and out of sleep.

“Filius!” Jumping, the book slid off his lap and onto the floor. Quick as ever, his wand flew from the table beside him and straight into his open hand. Much to his surprise, Minerva was standing in his living room. The fire was blazing and she had just stepped through the grate.

“Minerva, what a surprise! Is there something I can do for you?” His keen observation skills noted that she seemed to be in an uncharacteristic rush and looked a bit, for the lack of a better word, frazzled.

“The Minister and Governors are having a meeting twenty minutes to discuss the future of the school and to name the new Headmaster.” She stepped back towards the fireplace and reached for his floo powder.

Filius slid off his chair and summoned his cloak. “Discuss…? But Minerva, you are the next Headmistress.”

“Apparently not,” came her muttered reply.

It was a bitter subject; he could tell, and he knew better than to push her further. He waited until she had stepped through the fireplace and the green flames engulfed her. He took his own handful of the powder and shouted “Hogwarts!”

The only fireplace connected to the floo network in Hogwarts was the Headmaster’s office. Minerva was hovering next to the desk as he dusted himself off. She looked as anxious as he felt. The Minister had only been in office for a little over a week. Pius Thicknesse had replaced Amelia Bones over a year ago after her murder and now, he became Minister under similar circumstances.

Filius did not believe for a moment that Scrimgeour had resigned as the Daily Prophet reported. By the few interactions he had with the other members of the staff, they didn’t either. He had no idea what to expect at this meeting. The Ministry could not be trusted, now more than ever.

“We should go, my dear,” he said softly to Minerva who had turned to face Albus’ sleeping portrait. “He still hasn’t woken?”

She shook her head and then turned to leave the office but stopped before she opened the door. With uncharacteristic hesitation, she said, “I think Charity is dead.”

Filius’ thought his heart had stopped beating. His voice caught in his throat as he tried to respond. Just like Scrimgeour, so many had disappeared over the summer, especially in the last few days. But what threat did the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts have against You-Know-Who? And she was so young, such a bright mind. “Why? Why her?”

“She’s muggleborn,” came the curt reply. Minerva glanced at a clock on the wall and motioned for them to leave before Filius could form a response.

He followed her to the Great Hall where the rest of the staff was hovering outside of the doors. Filius gave them all a weak smile and tried to look confident. The doors opened at Minerva’s command and in they filed. The new Minister and fourteen governors were sitting at the Head Table, forcing the staff to fill the seats usually occupied by their students. There were four Aurors standing stoically to the side along with a few who must work at the Ministry in varying departments.

Once they had settled in, Alfred Wooney, the Head of Governors for Hogwarts walked forward. He was ten years older than Filius, the latter being eighty-three years of age. Wooney had been the Arithmancy Professor before Septima Vector had taken over the position. In his youth, Wooney had been tall and proud, but now he seemed to cower over his position. Time had taken its toll; his back was bent with age and his beard and hair were stark white. The old man wasted no time getting to the point.

“After the death of a Headmaster who did not choose to retire, it is the duty of the Governors to fill teaching positions as needed. As of the moment the staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is as following: Ancient Runes, Bathsheba Babbling; Arithmancy Mistress, Septima Vector; Astronomy Professor, Aurora Sinistra; Care of Magical Creatures Professor and Keeper of Keys, Rubeus Hagrid; Charms Master and Head of House Ravenclaw, Filius Flitwick; Divination Professor, Sybill Trelawney; Flying Instructor, Rolanda Hooch; Herbology Professor and Head of House Hufflepuff, Pomona Sprout; History of Magic Professor, Culbert Binns; Potions Master and Head of House Slytherin, Horace Slughorn; and Transfiguration Mistress and Head of House Gryffindor, Minerva McGonagall. As well as the positions of: Caretaker, Argus Filch; Librarian, Irma Pince; and Matron, Poppy Pomfrey.”

He had heard the intake of breath from Pomona behind him when Wooney had read Minerva’s name but only now was he realizing why. Her titles should have included Deputy Headmistress. His eyes tried to find hers sitting across from him, but the witch was staring straight at Wooney. He heard murmuring behind him as the other staff was noticing the absence of Charity’s name as well as Minerva’s demotion. Filius tried not to think about Minerva's comments about Charity, but it was looking more and more that she was correct. 

“And now to announce the newest members of your staff.” Filius wondered who could possibly want to join their numbers after the events of last year or the current war. And then reality hit him; the dark forces that had overthrown the Ministry were looking to do the same to Hogwarts. He again looked to Minerva, but her knuckles were white from the strain of clenching her fists. Wooney went on, his voice tight and anxious, “The new Muggle Studies Professor and Deputy Headmistress will be Alecto Carrow.”

Filius tried to remember why the name sounded familiar. Behind him, Pomona made a soft whimper and he could see Horace grimace. If they taught her, he must have too. A rough looking woman entered the room dressed in black robes with a gritty smirk on her face. His memory worked this time with the face: there had been siblings, two years apart, Alecto and Amycus Carrow. Both Slytherins and known Death Eaters who had escaped from Azkaban a few years ago. His fear was becoming realized as the seconds ticked by.

“Joining her as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor and co-Deputy Headmaster, is Amycus Carrow.” A shallow faced man followed his sister in the Great Hall. With sneering looks they looked down at their new colleagues, most of whom taught them when they were in school over a decade ago. Filius turned to his fellow professors trying to mask his apprehension. Pomona had one hand firmly over her mouth, eyes wide with shock and Poppy held her hand. Horace had begun to mutter quietly to himself. The others sat silently staring at the siblings, all except Minerva who sat straight backed, her callous eyes never leaving Wooney.

“The Headmaster of Hogwarts,” Wooney was saying and Filius closed his eyes. He seemed to know the name before it was spoken, “will be Severus Snape.”

The man who killed Albus Dumbledore would take his place as the head of the school. Filius felt his hands tremble at the thought. Snape had once been a great student and an honorable teacher; one could even venture to say a good friend. Now, he was the enemy. And the ex-dueler did not like having enemies. When he fought, it was for the sport. Filius was a Ravenclaw who valued wisdom, and wise men did not hate or have enemies. But even now, he could feel the anger burning inside of him that he had never felt before. Hogwarts was supposed to be a sanctuary; the one place in a war that would remain unscathed. But not now. This man, he could not condemn himself to call him Headmaster, had broken all its walls.

Wooney moved off the podium to shake Snape’s hand when the man made his entrance. Filius didn’t know if he thought Snape would look different, but he was met with the same dark eyes and pale skin; perhaps a bit darker and perhaps a bit paler. As Snape looked down at the people he had once called his family, Filius could not help but feel like a prisoner of war.

The Governors were leaving. Perhaps they could not live with the thought of hearing him speak. Snape cleared his throat to get their attention, but there was no need. None of the occupants of the room could say a single word.

“I am making several changes to the way things are run at this school,” he began in a dry voice. “First, all disciplinary actions must go through myself and my Deputies. Second, no Muggleborn students will be allowed to attend Hogwarts this year until they have undergone Ministry questioning.”

“How dare he…” whispered Pomona from behind him. Most of her students were Muggleborn. The names of the Muggleborn students in his own house flew through his head. Where would they go? Those poor children whose families were being scrutinized and abused. Now, they couldn't even escape to Hogwarts.

“Furthermore, the Deputies will be responsible for your patrolling schedules. If one of them gives you an order, it is as good as my own and I expect you to follow it. We will have staff meetings once a week until the school year comes to a start and then they will be twice a week until we settle into our new…roles.” This was standard during a normal year but coming from Snape it sounded inflexible. Filius noticed that Snape was staring more at the table they were sitting at than any individual. Perhaps he couldn’t look them in the eye. “Any questions?”

Filius could think of a million questions he wanted to ask. Top on his list was: _How could you have murdered him in cold blood?_ He bit back all the rage that threatened to overwhelm his small body. Now was not the time for biting words or accusing questions. Now was the time for silence; silence to keep his job and protect his students.

“Why must we turn in all disciplinary cases to you?” Minerva’s voice was strong and clear when she broke the delicate silence. Filius straightened to pierce her with a warning look, but she still stared forward. Minerva may have been one of the most competent witches of her generation, but she had a quick temper and even quicker tongue. A proud Gryffindor had to learn the time and place for a fight.

“We will make sure the proper action is taken against those who feel the need…” Snape looked at her directly this time. “…not to follow the school rules.”

She stiffened at his answer but did not back down. Filius reached into his robes to touch the wood of his wand. He may be determined to take the high and silent road, but he would not let Minerva drudge her way through the rougher terrain alone. “These orders from your, ah, Deputies. What could these consist of?”

“Anything.”

“Work related?” she pressed on. The Carrows were scolding in the corner and Filius could see their patience was running out rather fast.

“Of course,” came the terse reply. The lie rolled off Snape’s tongue effortlessly, but it was unneeded. Everyone in this room knew the truth. They knew the lies they would be fed for the rest of the year. They also knew they didn’t have a choice.

_November 1, 1997_

Filius loathed patrolling the corridors during the night. Not that he had ever been particularly fond of it in the past, as he liked to get a full night’s rest before teaching the next day. When Albus was Headmaster, teachers merely tried to keep students from sneaking off in the middle of the night or wreaking havoc that could prove to be problematic. Now, it felt like a military patrol. The staff had been instructed to turn over any students out of bed immediately to the Carrows instead of simply taking House Points or assigning their own detentions.

Over the past few months, fewer students ventured out after hours and if they did, the non-Death Eaters on the staff had found themselves turning a blind eye. Filius couldn’t recall a time that he had given out fewer detentions. For the most part, the students were keeping their heads down due to the new standards for punishment. Filius had seen too many children walking around the castle and coming to his classes with bruises, cuts, and broken bones. He knew Poppy had her hands full; the poor woman was in tears nearly at the end of every day.

It was the Gryffindors who were suffering the most. Most of the Hufflepuffs and his Ravenclaws had backed down after the first few weeks, or at least made their opposition a little quieter. Minerva, however, was having problems keeping her Lions at bay. They were putting up quite the fight and causing a ruckus that only seemed to be making matters worse. He had to admit thought, that occasionally seeing the words _Dumbledore’s Army – Still Recruiting_ graffitied onto a wall was uplifting.

So far, his night had been uneventful. That was until he rounded a corner heading to the library. Huddled not too far away from the entrance were Messrs. Longbottom and Finnegan, as well as Misses Weasley and Lovegood. His Luna Lovegood; one of his precious Ravenclaws. And one of the most outspoken Ravenclaws at that. She had been going out of her way to help the Gryffindors cause trouble for Snape and rally her fellow Ravenclaws. Even though he has remained silent in his position and encourages his students to do the same – just endure – he was immensely proud of Miss Lovegood.

“Shouldn’t you four be in your beds?” His voice startled them.

“Sorry, Professor.” Miss Weasley handed something to Mr. Longbottom to quickly shove in a bag while Mr. Finnegan smiled back at him.

“We were only-” began Miss Lovegood, but Filius raised his hand to stop her. It was better if he didn’t know what they were up to. If there was something that may be dangerous, Dumbledore’s Army had a way of hinting that their favorite teachers might want to avoid being somewhere at a particular time. Miss Lovegood bounced on her heels and cryptically, “Only, we weren’t finished, sir.”

He considered them for a moment and then softly said, “I am going to walk to the end of the hallway and back. By that time, you will be done.”

Four eager heads nodded at his words and he turned around to wander back down the corridor. He began counting his steps to make the journey slower. One. Two. Three…

…Fifty-three. Fifty-four. fifty-five…

Once at the end of the hall, Filius checked in both directions. Satisfied there was no one else out and about, he turned around. Seventy-seven. Seventy-eight. Seventy-nine…

…One hundred six. One hundred seven. One hundred eight…

“We’re done, Professor.” The four were standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the library door, but there did not appear to be any damage. Filius still made a mental note not to come down the corridor tomorrow.

“Very well, now come along. Gryffindor tower first, then I’ll take Miss Lovegood back on my way to my own rooms.” They set off on their dangerous trek to the tower. To Filius’ relief, they met no one on the way. Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Finnegan, and Miss Weasley promised to stay the rest of the night in their dorms. He knew better than to ask them to stay out of trouble for more than one night.

“Thanks again, Professor,” said Miss Lovegood in her airy voice. “It was kind of you to let us finish what we have planned. We know you are all on our side, you know.”

She smiled down at her Head of House, but before he could reply, he heard the sound of footsteps. Filius was quick to flick his wand, pushing the young woman into a nearby classroom. He hoped she would take the hit and stay quiet. Hopefully, it would not be Alecto Carrow, who was also on duty tonight.

Hope was hard to find. Carrow rounded the corner and sneered, “Flitwick.”

“Madame Carrow,” he returned and was met with a suspicious glare.

“I thought I heard speaking.”

“It must have been the portraits,” Filius answered quickly.

“Yes, Professor Flitwick and I were just having an enlightening conversation,” came a weak female voice to his right. A portrait of two witches hung just above his eye level. The Bashbore twins, he remembered, famous for their Elfin Rights Movement.

"You see, I was discussing the Theory of Charms with him. It was written by our great-uncle. You wouldn’t have happened to read it, would you?” asked the second woman with more confidence.

Alecto let out a growl. “No. And I don’t care too.”

“Yes, we were discussing how I use the book with my first year students.” Filius mentally thanked whoever was listening that the portraits were on their side of this awful fight.

“Well, good night then,” Alecto huffed and turned on her heel to barge back down the hallway.

Once he was sure she was gone, Filius opened the door to the classroom he had banished Miss Lovegood into. The young woman toppled out nearly on top of him. Apparently, she had been listening at the keyhole. He raised an eyebrow but turned his attention back to the portrait. “Thank you, Madams. I owe you greatly.”

Miss Lovegood murmured her thanks as well with a small bow. After all, it would have been she who would have been punished if they had been caught, not the Charms Professor. The twin sisters in the portrait beamed back at them. “We will do anything to protect the students of Hogwarts!”

Not to push their luck and risk the return of a Carrow, they pushed on to the Ravenclaw Tower. Filius walked her all the way into the Common Room to check on the status of his other students. All was quiet and it seemed all were tucked soundly in bed. He knew this peacefulness would disappear in the morning, but it was nice to take solace in.

Someday, these sleeping Ravenclaws would grow tired of ignoring all the horrible changes to their school. Someday, they would shout out their opposition to You-Know-Who. Someday the Gryffindors would not stand alone in their fight. Ravenclaw would have its day; brave and courageous lions were noting compared to the wit and intelligence of the young men and women in his house.

They would be a sight to behold, his Ravenclaws. For an angry Ravenclaw bides their time, waiting until the enemy thinks they are safe. They learn their enemy’s strengths and weaknesses, studying their every decision. A plan is formed, and actions plotted. And then, and only then, will they strike with everything they have.

Someday, Filius Flitwick will break his silence. He will not stand to see murder happen again within the walls of his home, this great school. But for now, his silence is his strength: a steady hand in a very, very long fight.


	2. The Hufflepuff's Stand

_September 1, 1997_

The first day of the school year usually brought smiles and joy to the castle. Hogwarts was always happy to see her students again and the staff was eager to greet their young charges. This year, however, a different feeling loomed over the castle. The grounds were quiet, and a cloudy haze hung over the Great Lake.

Pomona Sprout walked nervously into the Great Hall for the start of term feast. She had hardly seen any of her colleagues except during the mandatory staff meetings, which no one spoke unless spoken to. She had been spending the summer with her sister’s family in Wales but had officially moved back into the castle just a week ago. For the most part, the staff had been keeping to themselves. Poppy had come by the greenhouses to restock essential items and Horace had come for his own supplies as well. She had nearly run over Filius two days ago, but other than that had very little contact with anyone.

While it wasn’t unusual for her not to see some of the Professors, such as Rolanda or Sybill, before the start of term, it was completely unheard of for she and Minerva not to see each other. The two women had known each other during their own schooling and remained the closest of friends throughout the years. If everything didn’t already feel foreign, not seeing Minerva definitely made her feel out of step with the start of the school year.

She tried to clear her mind of all apprehension as she entered the Great Hall. Pomona looked to the head table and the beginnings of a smile formed as she saw Minerva already sitting down and speaking softly with Poppy. Filius was already there, as were Horace, Septima, and Aurora. The smile faded when her eyes rested on the empty chair in the middle of the table. The feeling of dread continued to grow as she walked across the hall.

The ceiling of the Great Hall was a dark grey and the candles were floating hauntingly across the lifeless ceiling. The banners of the four esteemed houses hung limply above their respected tables; there was no shine in their colors and no sparkle in their crests. Hogwarts was crying. The stone walls were aching and the candles were barely lit. It was as if Hogwarts could feel their pain. Pomona had only taught under Albus Dumbledore as Headmaster and he had always brought life to the castle and joy to the people within her walls. As Pomona got to her seat at the head table, she wondered if this Hogwarts was now a reflection of the new Headmaster’s soul.

Filius smiled weakly at her as she sat down in her chair next to him. He made a motion to the ceiling, saying, “I take it you’ve noticed.”

“We all feel the same way,” she murmured back. Filius turned his head back to stare sadly out at the empty hall. Glancing down the table she noticed that Minerva and Poppy’s conversation was more out of habit rather than interest. Horace sat two chairs away, staring down at his wand which he was rolling around with his fingertips. Pomona’s heart reached out for the elder Slytherin. She knew he must be feeling alienated by the other Professors.

“Horace, how are you feeling?”

“Hm? Ah, just well, just well, my dear.” He painted a painful smile on his face before turning his attention back to his wand. She noticed Minerva and Poppy had stopped talking to look at her and the Head of Slytherin. Filius glanced at her nervously.

Anger swelled within her breast. How dare they? How could they be supportive of each other and fail to reach out to Horace? Not only has he taught many of them at the table, he had never showed support for the Dark Arts. The poor old man had come out of retirement as a favor to Albus and now the very people he had come back to help were turning their backs on him.

“Did you get everything you needed from the greenhouses?”

When he looked up at her to answer Pomona gave him a reassuring smile. “For the first few weeks, yes.”

“I’m glad.” Thinking quickly, she added, “And I expect to see you for tea this weekend. That way we can go over what ingredients you’ll need for the next few months.”

“Tea?” Horace looked at her in surprise.

Before anymore could be said, the Carrow siblings entered the Hall laughing loudly with each other. Pomona caught Minerva’s eyes and pierced her with a glare that could give the stern Transfiguration Professor a run for her money, silently berating her friend for the treatment of Horace. A guilty look passed briefly over Minerva’s eyes, but quickly faded into anger as the Carrows drew near.

“Shouldn’t one of you be greeting the first years?” Minerva snapped at the two new Deputies. Pomona’s jaw pulled tightly and waited for the beginning of an argument.

“I don’t know why they can’t just come in with the rest of the little kiddies,” said Alecto.

“Because they haven’t been sorted yet. It’s the Deputy’s job to fetch them.” replied Minerva irritably. She stood up and Pomona felt herself start to raise with her, but Filius grabbed her wrist. Pomona’s heart thumped in her chest as she watched her friend move around the table.

Amycus crossed his arms and frowned. He stood directly in her path. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To fetch the first years.”

“Thought that was the Deputy’s job,” he replied sarcastically. Alecto stood beside her brother sneering at Minerva as she approached the pair.

“Yes, it is, but you just made it quite clear you were going to do it, so I’m relieving you of the duty.” Minerva, a tall woman to begin with, had about three inches on Amycus, but Alecto was larger than her brother and stood eye to eye with the Transfiguration Mistress. Pomona shook off Filius’ hand and stood up. However, before anything could happen, Severus Snape strode into the Hall.

The new Headmaster took one look at the two seething women and rolled his eyes. “Professor McGonagall, please take your seat. Madame Carrow, your chair is to my right. I expect you to be sitting there by the time I get to the table. Professor Carrow, please go attend to the first years. The other students will be here momentarily.”

The air seemed to stand still as Minerva stood in front of the three Death Eaters. Pomona drew her wand and she saw Filius stiffen next to her and noticed he too had taken out his wand. Down the table, Rolanda and Septima had both risen to their feet as well. All waited for Minerva’s next move; she and Snape were staring at each other in silence. But after a moment that felt like an eternity, Minerva turned on her heel and walked back to the head table.

Pomona took her seat and let out a deep breath. Alecto followed Minerva up to the table and Amycus left the Hall in search of the first year students. Snape slowly slinked to the ornate chair in the middle of the table. Pomona felt nauseous as he sat down in Albus’ seat. She had seen many a student that had turned to the Dark Side over the years. Only a handful in her own how House, something she was immensely proud of, but she taught a number of dark wizards and witches over the years. That included the three occupying seats at her table.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Pomona tried to steel herself for the year ahead. Then, the sound of hundreds of feet brought her eyes open. Their students filed in with a somber and nervous chatter. Pomona knew that as much she was unsure about what this school year was going to hold, the children in front of her were probably even more scared. Therefore, she put a pleasant smile on her face as her hesitant Hufflepuff’s looked up to her for guidance.

_October 14, 1997_

Students were anxiously skirting around the doorway to the Staff Room when Pomona made her way down the hall. They were whispering and glancing uneasily at the closed door. As she drew closer, it was apparent why. Albeit muffled, a great deal of shouting and yelling could be heard from the Staff Room. Smiling at the passing students, Pomona slipped in the door and what she saw shocked her.

The majority of the staff was present, and it seemed everyone was shouting. Several were pointing accusing fingers and others had their wands drawn. Minerva, Rolanda, Filius and Horace were in the thick of it all and she knew them well enough to know they were the cause of the uproar. It seemed they were taking sides because Minerva and Rolanda were standing up against Filius and Horace. Bathsheba was in the middle of the four, wand drawn, trying to separate them. The rest of the staff had made a circle around them.

They were so involved in their argument that none of them had noticed her entrance. Raising her wand in frustration, she let out a loud bang with purple sparks. Complete silence fell over the room, though it was clear tempers were raging high. Letting out a deep sigh, the usually calm and patient Hufflepuff let her colleagues have it.

“WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU THINKING? Do you realize that everyone can her you down this corridor? You are scaring the children. Even worse, you are acting like children. You are grown adults who should know better than to be fighting with each other. Minerva, keep your mouth shut,” Pomona snapped as her friend made a motion to intervene. “I have never been more embarrassed of all of you! Now, Bathsheba, since you seem to be the only person who hasn’t completely lost their head, would you care to explain what is going on.

The elder woman sighed, and Pomona noticed how exhausted she looked. Bathsheba Babbling had been teaching Ancient Runes at Hogwarts for so long, she looked ancient herself. With a shaking voice Bathsheba replied, “Tempers have just run dry, m’dear. They all have different opinions about how to fix this school and they are at each other’s throats for a change.”

“Fix this school?” Pomona’s eyes flashed dangerously at the four guilty parties. “What exactly is wrong with it? And Minerva, you have permission to speak now.”

“There are Death Eaters taking over the castle and our students are suffering!” exclaimed Minerva. “Are we just supposed to stand by and watch it happen?”

“It’s our job to protect them!” added Rolanda, solidifying her position with Minerva.

Filius glared at her and retorted, “But without risking our own jobs. We cannot protect them if there is no one left at Hogwarts!”

Pomona could see this was the heart of the argument. As soon as Filius stopped talking, Minerva had turned back to argue again. Around the room, voices were beginning to raise again. She looked to Poppy for help, but the poor woman had tear stains on her face. Another burst of sparks came from her wand to get their attention once more.

“Rolanda is right: it is our job to protect our students. However,” she said a little louder as Rolanda was beginning to look smug, “Filius has a valid point. We cannot act rashly.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” muttered Aurora. Most of the staff had years on the young Astronomy teacher and Pomona knew she was looking to her elder colleagues for guidance. Before Aurora’s words could spark another debate, she interrupted again.

“Firstly, we are not going to argue. That is exactly what they want.” A heat was rising in her chest which was becoming all too familiar. Her eyes were dark with determination as the staff watched her. The gentle Hufflepuff was not known for being this outspoken. “We are stronger as a team; no dark force can penetrate us as long as we stick together. There are only three of them and what, a dozen of us? You-Know-Who gets stronger every time we fight with each other. Right now you are making fools of us.”

The rest of the staff was beginning to look ashamed of themselves. Slowly, they made their way to various chairs and couches as she continued her speech. She had their attention now and she knew what she needed to do.

“Secondly, we are going to do everything within our power to help our students. However, there are probably some things we will not be able to protect them from. We can’t stop the Carrows from serving them awful detentions. But we can find ways to stop them from getting caught.” The words flowed easily from her mouth and she could feel herself standing taller with every sentence.

“And third, our students need to know we are on their side. They are feeling so alone in the world right now. They are separated from their families and many of their friends. They are basically in the dark about what is going on outside the castle walls. Many of them fear they may never see their loved ones again. We need to be their support system and we cannot do that if we are arguing amongst ourselves. Do I make myself clear?”

A gradual murmuring filled the room as the rest of the staff took in her stern words. Many had tears in their eyes and others had true admiration written on their faces. Poppy leapt from her seat to wrap Pomona in a hug which Pomona graciously received.

“Thank you, Pomona,” said Minerva quietly. The two long-time friends stared at each other with understanding. “I believe we all deserved that.”

Filius was quick to act on Pomona’s words and he said, “Minerva, you have led this school through thick and thin. I believe we need a leader in this, and I believe you are the right person for the task.”

“I second that,” followed Horace as he met Minerva’s thick gaze.

Minerva sat down at the head of the room and everyone seemed to settle in around her. To Pomona’s relief the atmosphere of the room had calmed remarkably. They were, in fact, some of the brightest witches and wizards of their fields. If You-Know-Who had anything fear, it was the staff at Hogwarts.

They remained in the Staff Room until the wee hours of the morning. With all of their minds working as one, they laid out a plan to hold the school together.

_January 24, 1998_

The sun was streaming through the glass of Greenhouse Two in the early light of a Saturday morning as Pomona struggled to get the last of her pruning done. Some plants did not respond well to being trimmed in the sunlight, so she had been working for a few hours to tend to the most temperamental of her precious plants. The month of January was coming to an end and her famous Hufflepuff patience was wearing thin.

The Carrows were making everyone’s life miserable. The children were being interrogated for the slightest offenses and the teachers were being scrutinized at every turn. Never would she had thought she would actually prefer to work with the likes of Dolores Umbridge, but these Death Eaters were making Hogwarts everyone’s personal Hell. And That Man. All he did was roam around like an overgrown bat or lock himself in Albus’ office. It infuriated her to no end.

Therefore, she spent long hours in the comfort of her greenhouses. It was the one thing You-Know-Who had yet to take from her. Here, she could pour out her frustration and sorrow into mending and nurturing the life around her. As the Herbology Professor, she had always felt at home in her greenhouses, but now she came here to escape. When she felt as if she was going to break under the pressure, she found herself digging in the mulch. She had found physical work was the best therapy.

The last time she had spent so much time among her plants was when poor Cedric Diggory had been murdered. Pomona could never forget the pain of sitting vigil with Amos and Ellen Diggory that dreadful night. The next few nights had been spent sleeping in the Hufflepuff Common Room; they had been so scared and sad, that she couldn’t leave them alone. But for weeks after, she poured out her own sorrow in the only way she knew.

This year, it seemed that her students found solace in her greenhouses as well. She had noticed that they were more willing to come talk to her here instead of her office or classroom. She guessed it was because they felt that the Carrow’s reach did not extend past the large, haunting doors of Hogwarts. Here, just like her, they found comfort in the calm and quiet and could pour their worries out to her.

At first, it had been first and second year Hufflepuffs led by their older housemates that came to her with their problems. She was quick to dry their tears and relieve their fears. And, while she could not make promises about when this dreadful time would be over, she opened her door to them at any time. The older students would help her work with her plants to relieve their anger. 

Then the strangest thing happened. Her Hufflepuffs began bringing Gryffindors and Ravenclaws to her greenhouses. Although it was rare, she had found herself counseling a student of another house over her years teaching. Minerva and Filius had always been more than capable of soothing a shy or troubled first year or giving life advise to a seventh year. At first, she did not ask why they chose to come to her with their troubles. However, as the numbers grew, she asked one of her fourth years why everyone seemed to be coming to her, the Hufflepuff Head of House, instead of their own.

The young woman had a simple answer: they felt as if they were letting their own Head of House down. The Gryffindors worried that the brave and independent Professor McGonagall would see their fears as a weakness. Ravenclaws feared there was a flaw in their logic and the ever-busy Professor Flitwick had more important things to worry about, as there was so much for him to worry over. It seemed that word had spread that Professor Sprout’s door was always open.

The current situation had caused each Professor to fall back on their own defenses to protect themselves from the harm this war was causing them. Minerva had become sterner than ever; building a wall of strength around herself and lashing out at anyone who threatened her or her charges. But that wall was keeping her students out as well. Filius, on the other hand, had a more reserved character. Some days Pomona wondered if she had even heard him speak all day. He was doing his best to stand between his students and any harm that could befall them. So, his Ravenclaws tried their best not to bother him. The poor children were just trying to please their teachers.

Footsteps entering the greenhouse pulled Pomona from her thoughts. Brushing off her hands on her already dirty skirt, she placed a gentle kiss on a pod of the puffapod she had been tending to. Then she turned to the doorway to see who was visiting her so early on a Saturday. Much to her surprise, instead of a first or second year child, a nearly grown man was standing in the dawning light of the day.

“Mr. Longbottom, I must say I wasn’t expecting a visit.” Neville Longbottom had been a great surprise to her. Not just in the natural ability he had shown over the years for Herbology, but also for the leader he had become in just a few short months.

“Hello, Professor.” He nodded at her and picked up a rake by the door. With a smile, she grabbed a second rake and motioned toward the mulch in the back of the greenhouse. Silently, the young man started working. Pomona knew he would tell her why he was here when he felt like it. Right now, he needed the same therapy she did.

They worked side by side for almost two hours. By the time Neville spoke, they had finished cleaning Greenhouses Two and Four and were well on their way with Five. His face was red and he was covered in sweat, dirt, and other unspeakables, but she could see he was much more relaxed.

“Professor, I have a favor to ask.”

“Oh?”

“I have a feeling that at some point the Carrows may want to get rid of me,” he said matter-of-factly. The thought made Pomona shudder a bit, but she didn’t interrupt him. “I don’t expect this to happen right away, but let’s face it, I haven’t made their life very easy. And I don’t plan on backing down.”

Pomona stopped raking and rested against one of her shrivelfig trees. “What can I do to help, Mr. Longbottom?”

“I’ve been stealing from your greenhouses.” The statement was blunt, but she could sense he was ashamed about his actions.

“I know.” Her answer apparently shocked him more than his revelation had shocked her. With a sigh, she added, “I thought it was you.”

“I’m sorry, Professor, but we needed something to help heal…” He trailed off, his dark eyes looking at her wearily. “I’ve been making murlap, but it isn’t enough. We need fluxweed, dittany, nettles, and all sorts of plants for making potions.”

“Are you asking my permission for you to keep stealing them?”

“No. I’m asking you to help the others once I’m gone. I know what the plants look like and what each one does, but not everyone is as good at Herbology.” Neville had a point. Many of her students wouldn’t be able to identify the difference between a flitterbloom and nightshade and that could be a deadly mistake. “They already know how to make the potions they need, but they are going to need someone to give them the ingredients.”

“Tell them to come to me, Mr. Longbottom.” A look of pure relief passed over his face at her words. He grinned and set down his rake.

“Thank you, Professor. I ought to be getting back now. Don’t want the Carrows to think I’m up to something.” With those words, he trotted back off towards the castle. Pomona put her own rake down and gave a large sigh.

She knew what she had to do, though. Every day was a battle for these children. Even the ones that were becoming adults right before her eyes. Someday, they will be free of the hands that tortured them. Someday, You-Know-Who and all those who followed him will fall. Someday, a Hufflepuff will avenge Cedric Diggory. Hufflepuffs were true to their roots and when it came to it, unafraid of toil. They were patient and Pomona believed that they could withstand the heartache the world was handing them now. They were strong and loyal, and someday, they would help lead this fight.

Someday, Pomona Sprout would be able to return to her more reserved and calm nature; she would be able to sit quietly in her greenhouses. But for now, she had to stand up for her students. She had to take a stand for good in this fight against evil. And that place was between You-Know-Who and her children.


	3. The Gryffindor's Fight

_October 10, 1997_

Heels clicked against the cold stone. Students who were unlucky enough to be in the hallway rushed to move out of her way. For a woman who easily scared her students on a normal day, the look Minerva McGonagall was wearing could easily kill someone. Jaw clenched, lips thin, and hands balled into fists, she swept through the corridors of Hogwarts in a fury. She had been working at this school for over forty years and she would be damned if she was going to watch her students be tortured.

When she got to the entrance to the Headmaster's office, she had to slow her pace. It finally struck her that she had no idea what the password to the traitor's office was. Barely concealing a scream of frustration, she glared down at the gargoyle guarding the room. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, you know who I am! Let me in!"

The gargoyle stared back unblinking. Minerva let out a low hiss. Students who had ventured near her jumped back as she drew her wand. Before she could decide what curse to use, a deep voice came from behind her.

"You wouldn't be trying to break into my office, now would you?" To his credit, Severus Snape did not flinch at the glare worn by his colleague. Her wand went back into her robes, but her threatening stance did not falter.

Without hesitation, Minerva snapped back, "We need to speak. Now."

Snape approached the gargoyle, who opened upon the presence of the Headmaster. A few choice words ran through her mind as she passed the stone statue, but the majority of her anger had another target. Oh, she knew the fine line she was walking, but she could not stand idly by while Hogwarts suffered.

Once in the office, she waited until he took his seat behind the Headmaster's desk. Her green eyes stared relentlessly at Snape as he settled himself in Albus' chair. "What can I help you with, Professor McGonagall?"

"Since when has detention at this school reverted back to the dark ages?" Minerva got straight to the point.

“I am not in charge of disciplinary action, if you have a problem, you should take it up with Professor or Madame Carrow.”

“I am taking it up with you!” How could he sit across from her like nothing was happening? Minerva felt her heartrate increase as they stared at each other. He was so calm; maybe too calm. But Potter had said he was calm that night he had murdered Albus.

When Potter had told them what had transpired in that tower, her immediate thought had been that the poor boy had finally lost his mind. Even standing over Albus’ body she hadn’t thought it possible for Severus to betray them. Over the years, despite their differences, they had developed a friendship of sorts. Losing Albus felt like losing a limb; but knowing it was at Severus’ hand made it feel like she was bleeding out.

Even if they had different approaches to teaching, she wouldn’t have ever believed he would ever harm a student. Terrorize, perhaps, but to sit idly by while physical harm befell them…

“This has to stop! They are going to cause irreparable damage…Severus, these are children! Most of them are underage.” It was in that moment that Minerva realized she wasn’t above begging. Not even to him.

Minerva silently berated herself for slipping up and calling him by his given name. Ever since he had returned to Hogwarts, they had strictly been Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. This was something that hadn’t happened since his first year teaching. If Snape noticed her slip, he didn’t acknowledge it. “I have confidence that matters are being handled in the appropriate manner.”

“Appropriate manner?!” she exclaimed while throwing her hands up. “They are using Unforgivable Curses on first years!”

“The Ministry no longer views-”

She interrupted him with a bitter laugh. “I’m aware of the current state of the Ministry.”

“I didn’t think you were particularly inclined to them before.” His eyes traced over her chest were the stunners had left their mark not two years before. For a second, she saw a flash of the man she knew before, merely making a friendly quip. But Minerva had learned the hard way that no one should ever let their guard down around Snape.

“The rest of the staff will not stand for-”

This time it was Snape hat interrupted her. “You will. You will do whatever I say. I am the Headmaster now and the Carrows outrank you whether you approve or not.”

“Or what?” Minerva snapped back, her eyes flashing dangerously. “You’ll kill me like you killed Albus?”

The room was silent except for both of their short breaths. Even the portraits seemed frozen at her words. If her comment shocked him, Snape didn’t show it visibly. But Minerva had worked with Snape for sixteen years and taught him for the seven years of his youth. She had rattled something inside him; if she didn’t know better, she would have thought her accusation had hurt him.

Minerva stood still and wondered if she had pushed it too far. Would he let her draw her wand or just kill her right here? She had been itching for a fight for months and wondered if they were as evenly matched as she thought. A long minute dragged by and Snape’s jaw tensed ever so slightly before he spoke.

“If he wanted you dead, don’t you think you would already have been taken care of?” His voice was so low that it sent a chill up her spine. He slowly stood from the Headmasters chair and crept out from behind the desk. “Now, I’m going to give you the opportunity to walk back out the door and we can forget this conversation ever happened. Because I don’t think the students will like your replacement.”

He was steps away from her now and his words were slowly sinking in. It was something Minerva had always known in the back of her mind. If she wasn’t here, who would be looking after her students? If Voldemort came for her, who would protect them? Her heart beat rapidly as they stared at each other. What Death Eater would take her place if she died today? This was one battle; she had a war to fight.

Minerva took a step back. Her voice was coarse when she tried to steady it. “If that’s all, Headmaster?”

Snape nodded and turned his back to her. Glancing past him, she saw Albus sleeping in his portrait and she felt betrayed all over again.

_February 27, 1998_

A wave of her hand turned off the radio. Minerva slowly lowered her head into her hands, fingers threading through her hair. Too many names tonight. Well, there were too many names every night. It cut her to recognize so many of them, but it didn't hurt any less for the names she didn't know. Innocent people were dying and just because she didn't know them personally, didn't mean their lives weren't worth saving.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had been the one to inform her of Potterwatch. It was rather an ingenious idea. Now that half the Order was in hiding, it was hard to conduct meetings. Not to mention it would be nearly impossible to leave Hogwarts to meet with anyone. She knew Kingsley had told her about it to make her feel in the know. He was a good man. And one voice she desperately hoped to hear every time she turned on the radio.

Other members of the staff were listening in as well. She thought a few students probably were too, being as it was their friends running the program. All of this was done in secret. Anything else was too dangerous. It was hard enough for the Professors to even gather in the Staff Room for tea anymore, let alone listen to contraband material over a radio.

Nowadays, Minerva wasn't just listening for news of Harry Potter or the war or to check in on old acquaintances. So many of her students had disappeared and she had no idea where they had gone. But there had been no word from Potterwatch about her missing students. Well, there were those who had graduated, such as the host Lee Jordan, and a few that had been unable to make it back to Hogwarts due to their 'blood-status'. Dean Thomas came to mind.

But there was no news about her missing children. Not children, she guessed. No, they were much more than that now. They had been forced to grow up far before their time. There had been four Gryffindors, two Ravenclaws, and a Hufflepuff that had disappeared in the last two weeks alone. It raised her hopes to know that Snape and the Carrows were searching for them, which meant they weren’t responsible.

She knew she should be trying to get some sleep, but as was most nights since the semester started, sleep was eluding her. Pin by pin, she let her hair down and slowly begin braiding it. She stared out the window to look out over the lake. It was so quiet; the silence was slowly seeping into her soul. Grabbing a book, she settled into the overstuffed chair next to the smoldering fire.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Minerva woke with a start and the book slid off her lap and onto the floor. She must have dozed off while reading. She summoned her dressing gown and quickly pulled it on. During a normal school year, it wasn’t unheard of for students to fetch her in the middle of the night for some nightmare or trouble. Occasionally, another professor would bring a student who had been out of bed for punishment. But this year, the students didn’t dare exit their common rooms past curfew, or at least, they were extremely careful not to get caught.

“Get up, woman! What’s taking so long?!” shouted a male voice from the hallway. Minerva groaned. Only the Carrows would wake her at this hour in such a rash manner. And they sounded angry. These days it seemed they were always angry, except of course when they were happy. And a happy Carrow never meant good for anyone else.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” she barked as she wrenched the door open.

Amycus shoved past her into her sitting room with his sister hot on his heels. The handful of Slytherin students that trailed behind them seemed less sure that they wanted to enter a Professor’s personal quarters at this hour of the night. In fact, she highly doubted any of them had been to her rooms; any time she dealt with students outside of her own house, it was in her office or classroom.

“Where is he?” growled Alecto after glancing around the darkened room. The fireplace was only embers now. Amycus had the sense to light his wand as he thumped around.

“Where is who?” asked Minerva, trying to keep up with their problem. She eyed the students in the hallway again. Draco Malfoy and his two buffoons were hovering with Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. She knew they were part of the group that the Carrows had put together to help enforce the new rules. Not unlike Dolores Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad.

Amycus seemed unsatisfied by his search of the room when he turned around and answered, “That Longbottom boy. He’s in your house! You must be hiding him!”

Minerva tried to hide the panic that threatened to overtake her at his words. What had Neville done now? Obviously, they weren’t torturing him, or they wouldn’t be here asking her for his whereabouts. Steadying herself, she said, “I can promise you that I’m the only person who has been here tonight. I don’t keep a habit of storing children in my bedroom.”

Alecto’s eyes flickered towards her bedchamber door and Minerva let out an exasperated sigh. She took out her wand and the lights of her sitting room flickered on. Another wave and her bedroom door unlocked. “Go on. The faster you get this over with, the faster I can get back to sleep.”

When the siblings moved from her sitting room to bedchamber, Crabbe made a movement as if to follow. Minerva stuck out her arm to stop him, commenting with a raised eyebrow, “I don’t think so.”

If any of the students were about to challenge her authority about entering the room where she slept, it didn’t matter because the Carrows had made short work of the search. Minerva crossed her arms and glared at them as they pushed their way back into the hallway.

“You’re going to let us into the Gryffindor Common Room!” Amycus ordered.

Minerva looked back at him blankly. “You decided to search my rooms before you searched the Common Room? How do you know he’s even missing? He could be in bed!”

“We know he’s not in bed because he never went back to the Gryffindor Tower after he served his detention,” snarled Alecto. Minerva supposed they were having the area watched. “But one of his little mates may be able to tell us where he is! He’s gone too far this time!”

Thinking quickly, Minerva tried to buy Neville more time to get somewhere safe. Hopefully, the boy was smarter than to go back to the Common Room, but she didn’t want to chance running into him in the hallways either. She wasn’t sure exactly what he had done, but she had a feeling that Neville didn’t want to answer for it this time. “Do you mind if I put on some proper clothes first?”

“What?”

“I don’t intend on parading throughout the castle on this wild goose chase in my nightclothes.” Every second she could give Neville was a chance that she wouldn’t have to watch the Carrows torture him; she wasn’t sure lately that they weren’t bent on giving him the same fate as his parents.

“Get going, woman!” Amycus pointed his wand at her and motioned for her to start walking.

They reached the Gryffindor Tower faster than she would have liked, but there was nothing she could do to help it. Two fifth year Slytherins stood outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, obviously the watch team. Minerva stood silently at the back of the group until Alecto turned to her with a glare.

“Open the damned door! Give her the password!”

Feigning bewilderment, Minerva answered, “Oh, is that why you dragged me along? Couldn’t you have gotten the password from the Headmaster?”

“He’s busy.”

Ah, so they had not told Snape yet. Whatever Neville had done, the Carrows wanted to take care of it before involving him. She almost smiled at the thought. Weaving her way to stand directly in front of the portrait, she nodded at the Fat Lady who returned a nervous smile.

“What can I do for you, Professor?” came her meek voice. “You’ll need the password to enter the Common Room.”

“Yeah, yeah, go on!” shouted Amycus.

Minerva turned around and glanced at the Slytherin students. “I will give the password, but students are not permitted to enter a Common Room that is not their own and I will insist that your entourage wait outside.”

Alecto did not like this answer. “We’re in charge here. We’ll say what the rules are!”

“Well, seeing as only I know the password. Either you agree to my terms or you can go wake the Headmaster.”

“Fine! Fine! Just open the bloody door!” Aymcus shushed his sister’s complaints to the side.

Minerva nodded and said, “Niffler.”

The portrait swung open to an empty common room. It appeared all of her students were in their beds. Although if she had to guess by the coals in the fireplace, there had been plenty of activity before Amycus’ shouting outside had started. The Carrows split up, Amycus taking the boys dormitory and Alecto the girls.

Soon, Minerva was joined by various students of her house, having been forced out of bed by the search. A couple of first years simply adjusted their blankets to find a soft spot on the floor. The rest sat around on the chairs and couches. No one spoke. It was too dangerous.

After an hour, Amycus and Alecto were huffing and yelling at the Gryffindor students, but Neville Longbottom was nowhere to be found. Their search seemed to have worn them out, so to Minerva’s relief, they weren’t handing out any retributory detentions or curses. Eventually, the students were allowed to go back into their dorms.

As the Carrows exited the portrait back into the hallway, Minerva turned to see Seamus Finnigan giving her a thumbs up from the stairwell. A small smile crept on to her face. Wherever Neville was, he was safe.

_May 1, 1998_

“Potter, aren’t you supposed to be looking for something?” The young man was staring around the Great Hall as if he were a bit lost. Not quite the same attitude he had in the Ravenclaw Tower earlier in the evening.

“What? Oh…oh yeah!”

“Then go, Potter, go!”

Minerva shooed him away to whatever secret mission he was on. As curious as she was, they didn’t have time to argue about whether or not she should be included in whatever task Albus had given the poor boy. Kingsley was giving out orders and she needed to help. He was a capable leader; more than capable to be honest, but he only knew the other members of the Order of the Phoenix. They were going to need to sort through the students that had remained behind. The majority of the staff was assembled behind Kingsley, sifting through their students both present and past.

Seamus Finnigan met her at the base of the steps with Dean Thomas and Lavender Brown directly behind him. “Where’d’ya want us, Professor?”

She wanted them safe in their beds; she wanted them anywhere but here. Voldemort’s cold voice kept burning her ears. Minerva looked over the three of them and then to the rest of Dumbledore’s Army that was gathering behind them, looking for their orders. Kingsley and the other members of the Order had divided themselves up, but they were waiting for her now, just like her staff. Minerva felt like a General, assigning her troops where to die.

But this was a war and it would end tonight, one way or another. Clearing her throat, she found within herself the rage and confidence she had earlier when she had banished Snape from the castle. “Mr. Finnigan and Mr. Thomas, assuming that I will be unable to separate the two of you, please find some way of bringing down the bridge over the ravine. That will be one less area we have to worry about.”

Both boys stared at her. “You want us to what?”

“Blow it up.” Leaving the two gleefully at the steps, she motioned for Miss Brown to follow her. “Find the Patil sisters and Professor Trelawney. See what you can do from the Divination Tower. I’m sure she has plenty of heavy objects. Filius you’ll need some help targeting from a great distance. Who do you want with you?”

Minerva looked down to the elder Professor who had already spent most of the night setting protections around the perimeter. “Miss Chang, Mr. Corner, and Miss Vane, if you will follow me. I believe your accuracy will be of use in the Ravenclaw tower.”

“Anyone who got an O or E in their Herbology O.W.L.’s will follow Professor Sprout to the greenhouses to gather anything useful. I don’t want anyone getting accidently hurt before this begins.” Minerva put her hands on her hips and glanced over the others. “Rolonda, get to the Quidditch Pitch and gets some brooms. Leave the bludgers, we can’t risk any of our own getting hit. Anyone who has any proficiency on a broom, follow her. Except Misters Weasley, we need those passageways closed.”

The twins saluted her and grabbed their older brother, Percy, who quite frankly Minerva was surprised to see. Kingsley nodded and took over from here. “The rest of you, divide up between myself, Arthur, Remus, and Professor McGonagall. We don’t have very long to get into position. We’ll need runners to relay information, so each group elect someone.”

As the students, or young adults as they really were, began dividing themselves up, Minerva turned to the rest of her staff. “Poppy, I believe you’ll find Molly excellent help to organize triage. We will need somewhere to bring the wounded. Aurora, help them. I’ll need the rest of you with Kingsley, Arthur, and Remus. We need steady wands on the ground.”

“We’ll go wherever you need us,” replied Septima, who patted her arm affectionately.

Minerva’s voice caught in her throat when she tried to reply, but the others didn’t seem to mind. Pomona shuffled over and gave her a quick kiss to the cheek. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

As the groups broke off, Minerva turned to her charges. Susan Bones looked more like her aunt as the days went by. She had no idea where Penelope Clearwater or Roger Davies had come from, but both were more than capable and she was happy to have them. The remainder of the group were the few sixth year Gryffindors who were of age. She had sent all of her seventh years on their own missions.

Together they made their way to the Gryffindor Tower to assume their positions before midnight. They rushed past the last of the underage students going into the Room of Requirement and Minerva was surprised when Horace’s voice called out. He had been helping Argus usher the students to safety.

Her recent threat must have been on Horace’s mind because he seemed more timid than usual. Behind him were four seventh year Slytherins. “Minerva, I have some fighters for you.”

Minerva looked them once over. All four were half bloods of lesser Wizarding families and all four were clutching their wands. She had taught them for seven years and all four were just as talented as anyone else in her small team. Her eyes trained back on Horace. He seemed to be silently pleading with her to take this offering from his wayward house.

“Come with me,” she answered, dismissing the sounds of protest behind her. Minerva had a war to fight; she didn’t have time for petty house grievances. If they wanted to fight, then let them fight. They needed all the wands they could get.

They hurried onward to the tower and when they made it to the Fat Lady’s portrait. The poor woman was scared as were several portraits surrounding her. “Oh, Professor, we all heard him. That evil man!”

“Yes, which is why we need to get in quickly,” answered Minerva, in no hurry to make idle conversation.

The portrait swung open and the group made their way into the common room. They spread out into the dormitories and took positions in the windows. Fear gripped her chest as she looked out onto the grounds. Hogwartians were moving within the boundaries of the castle, but beyond the lake she could see the glow of another group gathering.

“Professor…” Minerva looked to her left to find Mervin Bells, one of the Slytherins, staring out into the darkness. He swallowed before looking at her directly. “There are more of us…there would have been more of us to fight if more were over seventeen. A lot of the young kids, they want to fight too. The Slytherins, I mean.”

“Mr. Bells, there’s no need to explain yourself. Or anyone else. You’re here now and all I ask of you is to watch my back,” she replied softly. If there was one thing she had learned over the years, it was that no one should be help responsible for the actions of members of their own house.

The clocktower rang out loudly and she took a deep breath. Midnight. This was it. This was the moment to fight. How long had they been building to this point? This is the moment they had been waiting for. Minerva was finally getting to raise her wand against the evil that had penetrated her life. Tonight would define the world as they knew it. Her Gryffindors were scattered throughout Hogwarts, bravely facing death beside the members of every other house.

Someday, Minerva would repair the school she called her home. Someday she would be able to mourn all that had been lost over the years and those they would lose tonight. She knew her daring Gryffindors were more than willing to give their lives tonight and the thought crossed her mind that she may not see the morning either. And she would die a hundred times over if it kept Lord Voldemort from taking another innocent life. She would have time to rest when all of this is over.

So, Minerva McGonagall raised her wand for the longest night of her life. Now was the time to fight.


	4. The Slytherin's Choice

_October 26, 1997_

The fire crackled as the logs slowly burned down. The glow from the embers was the only light in the room. Horace Slughorn was slumped down in a dark blue overstuffed chair; his green eyes studied the flames as they dwindled down. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there, drink in hand. The ice in his whiskey had melted down long ago. This is how he spent most of his evenings these days.

It had been a long time since Horace had felt this lonely. He was extremely social by nature, even in his youth. When he was a professor, he hosted parties for the students and even entertained his fellow staff with an occasional drink or dinner. In retirement he found himself the guest of many a celebrity and politician. It wasn’t until Tom Riddle had made his return and he had to go on the run, that he found himself lonely. Horace did not like to be lonely.

Although he had avoided Albus at first, Horace had been secretly incredibly happy to return to Hogwarts. Of course, he had known what the old man had wanted from him. But it did his heart good to return to the school. Everyone had been so welcoming, and he had forgotten the joy and wonder that the children approached life with. Although, he had to admit, joy was hard to find these days.

And Horace loved teaching. Although his students were more subdued this year, it didn’t mean he shouldn’t devote every ounce of his energy into teaching his classes. He had been at Hogwarts during difficult times before, even when Tom Riddle had opened the Chamber of Secrets. Horace had always thought that the best way to show his support for his students was to be the best teacher he could be. So, he encouraged, guided, and praised every child who stood in his classroom.

However, once the children had gone back to their dormitories, Horace found himself alone. There was no Slug Club this year or chats by the fireside in the Staff Room. The Death Eaters who roamed the hallways were doing their best to make everyone feel as isolated as possible; and to tell the truth, it was working. Of course, Alecto and Amycus had invited their old Head of House to join them for a night cap on occasion. The thought of spending the evening with those dark souls sent a chill down Horace’s spine. He was smart enough to know though, that he did not want to make direct enemies of the Carrow siblings. As long as those two thought of him as a fellow Slytherin, he could keep the children safe.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Horace blinked and shifted in his chair. Glancing around the room, he looked for the source of the noise. Had he actually heard something? Or was it just his nerves and the whiskey? The clock on the mantle showed it was just past ten in the evening. Not so late that he should be sleeping, but too late for anyone to be out in the hallway.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

There it was again, although a little firmer this time. Horace rose from his chair as the realization dawned on him: someone was knocking on his door. The knock was so quiet though that he didn’t know how anyone expected him to hear it. Nevertheless, he straightened his rumbled robes and went to answer it.

To his great surprise three first year girls were standing hand-in-hand in the hallway. The poor child in the middle had tear tracks on her cheeks. His brain automatically supplied their names: Lessie Nettle, Evangeline Evergreen, and Alberta Bitterwood. All three had been sorted into Slytherin this year. Horace wasn’t very good at remembering names, but every year he took extra care to remember every first year in his house, just to make sure they felt at home.

“My goodness, girls, whatever is the matter?” he asked as he swept his arms open, welcoming them into his rooms. Alberta, the dark-haired girl with narrow eyes practically dragged the whimpering Lessie across the doorway. Evangeline followed quietly, her round blue eyes staring up at Horace.

Horace ushered them over to a plush couch and summoned his own chair to sit with them. Lessie’s blonde hair draped over her face as her shoulders shook. Evangeline patted her softly on the back and held her hand. Three glasses of water appeared on a small end table for them.

“Now, Miss Bitterwood, would you like to tell me why Miss Nettle is so upset?”

Alberta and Evangeline exchanged a glance far more mature than their eleven years. Alberta tilted her chin up and replied, “She doesn’t want to be a Slytherin anymore. We have decided that we would like to be sorted into a different house.”

Horace had to sit back in his chair. Every head of house had experienced a student who did not believe they had been sorted into the correct house. Usually there were two reasons for this: one, the student did not believe they possessed the qualities required of them to be a good House member; or two, the student had come from a family that had primarily belonged to another house. Horace had counseled quite a few Slytherins on why they should be proud to be in his house and usually, all had left with a feeling of satisfaction and house pride.

Tonight, he had a sinking feeling that the conversation would be a little different. Producing a handkerchief from his pocket, he handed it to young Lessie. And as gently as possible, he asked, “Why don’t you want to be a Slytherin?”

Lessie sniffled, seemingly unable to answer. But her two friends encouraged her and finally she squeaked, “Everyone hates us.”

“Oh, my dear child, I don’t believe that’s true.” Horace felt his heart breaking.

“I’m not mean, and I don’t hate muggleborns, and I don’t want to be a Death Eater!” Her words came out in a rush now. “I don’t want to hate anyone!”

“They say that only the bad wizards are in Slytherin!” added Evangeline. Horace noticed that Alberta hadn’t said anything. She was a pureblood. Not from a well-known family, but a pureblood all the same. Both Lessie and Evangeline had a muggle relative somewhere in their family tree. So, not quite half-bloods, but they couldn’t claim a pureblood status.

Horace passed one of the glasses of water to Lessie as she tried to control her tears. “Do you think I’m a bad wizard? Or that I hate any of my students that aren’t in Slytherin?”

The girls stared back at him. Both Lessie and Evangeline shook their heads side to side tentatively. Alberta crossed her arms and straightened up even taller. Or at least, taller for an eleven-year-old. “But you’re a teacher. You’re supposed to like everyone.”

“Perhaps that’s true. And it is also true that there have been several Slytherins who made choices in their lives to hate those not like them.”

“Like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,” whispered Evangeline.

“Yes. And many of his followers.” There was no point in lying to them. Tom Riddle had been in his house. As had the Carrows and Severus Snape. His Slytherins were far too clever to be lied to. And Horace knew only honesty would gain their trust. “I have taught a few students who chose hatred and darkness over inclusion and joy. But I have taught so many more that did not. Although it does not seem like it now, those who shine brightly in Slytherin far outweigh those who chose a darker path.”

“But the other Slytherins act like they’re better than everyone else. They are saying that we need to get rid of the muggleborns and keep the magic pure. People in our house are supposed to be powerful and become Death Eaters.” Lessie started crying again at Alberta’s words.

Evangeline added, “So we don’t want to be in Slytherin anymore.”

“Unfortunately, many of the students hear those words at home. And some hear it from other adults in their lives. You are all too young to have true hate in your hearts. Often, it is hard to stand up to those who raised us, even if we know they are wrong. Many of your housemates may not believe what they are saying but are too scared to say anything about it.” Horace knew something about this himself.

Leaning back in his chair, he continued. “The three of you have a lot of courage coming to me. It would make you excellent Gryffindors, in fact. And intelligent too, seeking out my counsel to discuss your fears and ask for help. Ravenclaws have those qualities. Your loyalty to each other and the desire to stand up for yourselves, why, you could even be Hufflepuffs.”

“So, you can resort us?” asked Alberta. Oh, she would for sure be a member of his Slug Club in years to come. He liked her.

“But wouldn’t you like to know why the sorting hat put you in Slytherin?” All three girls stared back at him, silent. “I will admit that often Slytherin’s find their true traits often do not bloom until they have been in school for a few years. But the Sorting Hat can see the parts of you that you may not recognize yet. For example, it is a trait of Slytherins to form tight bonds with those in their house.”

“Like the Death Eaters?”

“Yes, that is one example. Another is a very successful Quidditch team because they have bonded as a team in a way those of another house could not. Or perhaps a group of friends that trust each other implicitly that their friendship will last a lifetime. Much like your own. You did not know each other before being sorted into Slytherin, did you?”

“We met at the Welcoming Feast,” answered Evangeline, clutching Lessie’s hand. 

“And you trusted each other enough to share your fears about being in Slytherin with each other. Not all students would have done that. Slytherins are also known for their daring. Which is a bit different than courage. You see, it took courage to come to a professor to ask to switch houses. But it took boldness to come to the Head of Slytherin.”

He watched his words sink in slowly. Horace pressed on, saying, “I have seen intelligence in your work in my class. Miss Bitterwood, even as an eleven-year-old, you are very cunning, whether you know it now or not. And Miss Evergreen, I have heard you say you will be Minister of Magic before you are thirty. And with much authority for a young lady of your age. That is quite an ambition. And I believe you will be, because you think you will be.”

Lessie wiped her tears from her face and gave a little sniffle. “What about me? I’m not cunning or ambitious.”

“As a…em, well-seasoned, Slytherin, I can tell you that not all of us display such traits so outwardly or so early in life. But if I must say, I do believe you are cunning and loyal. I also believe that Slytherin house needs people just like you. A young woman with a pure heart and the strength to go her own way, even when faced with great opposition. I believe Slytherin House is good hands with the three of you.”

The girls were all holding hands again. Alberta eased the other two off the couch. Horace’s chest swelled with pride at the three young Slytherins. That is, if they still wanted to be Slytherins. Lessie cleared her throat and told him with no hesitation, “We will take this under advisement. When we reach a decision about if we want to stay in Slytherin, we will let you know.”

_May 2, 1998_

_“You see?”_ The echo of Tom Riddle’s voice carried into the streets of Hogsmeade where Horace stood beside Charlie Weasley. _“Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!”_

Horace felt his heart drop. Harry Potter, dead? It couldn’t be. He looked out in the darkness toward where the castle stood. A glow could be seen over the tallest towers. Hogwarts was burning and Harry Potter was dead. The feeling of dread was growing within him.

Around him, the gathering crowd whispered in fear. The shop owners of Hogsmeade had been hesitant to get involved in the battle brewing at the castle. Horace had been attempting to corral the young students who had evacuated. Luckily, there was an owlery in town, so the children had been sending messages to their family.

To Horace’s surprise, many of the parents that arrived to gather their children sent them home to safety, but had remained, ready to take on the Death Eaters. Word had spread that Hogwarts was making a stand against Lord Voldemort and his followers and people were coming to help. Using owls, the floo network, and some magical coins, people were flooding into Hogsmeade to fight.

“We’ve got to get in there,” said Charlie, more to himself than anyone else. Horace had not taught Charlie Weasley, having only taught two of the set of seven. He had of course, taught their parents. In Horace’s opinion, Ronald’s most redeeming quality was his choice of friends. But that Ginerva made an excellent addition to his collection. She was going to go far; or she would if she survived this.

“Didn’t you hear him?!” shouted someone in their gathering group. “Harry Potter’s dead!”

“We don’t stand a chance!”

“Harry Potter is just one person…” Horace was surprised to hear the words come out of his mouth. But his brain was working overtime. Did all the wizarding world really expect a boy to kill Tom Riddle? So many grown men tried and failed, what chance did a child have? Albus had never told Horace the role that Harry was supposed to play in this war and he had never asked. But was it possible that Harry’s role was to die all along?

Charlie looked at him and nodded, although Horace was not sure what he was agreeing too. Charlie turned back to the crowd and shouted, “Our friends and family are in Hogwarts fighting for their lives! Harry Potter may be dead, but they are not! I would rather die fighting tonight than live under You-Know-Who’s control for the rest of my life!”

His comments stirred up the crowd. Horace recalled that Charlie had been the quidditch captain during his years at Hogwarts. Inspirational speeches were probably something he was familiar with. He did have a point. Did Horace want to spend the rest of his life running away from Tom and his Death Eaters? Did he have the energy left? The answer came to him as quickly as the question had. 

“Mr. Weasley is right.” Horace had their attention without even trying. Everyone here was looking for a leader. There was a possibility he had taught most of the people here or at least a member of their family. He never was a leader, but tonight, they didn’t need a leader. They just needed a push in the right direction and Horace had a knack for pushing students in the right direction. “I am going back to Hogwarts.”

With those words, he straightened his shoulders and started walking. Horace drew his wand and thought of every friend he had back in the castle; of every student who had stayed behind to fight; of poor Harry, now dead; and of Tom Riddle. It was time to stop running.

Or maybe it was time to start running. Behind him Charlie let out a whooping call: “For Hogwarts!”

“For Hogwarts!” came the rallying cry.

Glancing over his shoulder, Horace watched as Charlie began to run towards him and Hogwarts. With a single thought that perhaps he was a bit too old to be running, Horace picked up his pace. He could hear the thundering footsteps of the crowds behind him. As they neared the walls, Charlie let out another cry that echoed through the swarm of witches and wizards running with them.

There was screaming and yelling ahead. He could see giants fighting over the tops of the walls. The light of spells rebounding off the stones told Horace that the battle was carrying on even in the wake of Harry Potter’s death. Hogwarts and her occupants were still fighting back. Hope soared through his body as Charlie sprinted past him into the throng of fighters before them. 

It was absolute chaos.

Between the giants, spiders, centaurs, threstrals, and house-elves, were the staff and students of Hogwarts alongside who he presumed was the Order of the Phoenix. Death Eaters were everywhere, and everyone had been pushed back into the Great Hall. Horace sent a curse at the nearest one and turned to duel another in the same breath. Weaving through the crowd, he tried to assist his students in any way he could. Just as he stunned the Death Eater dueling Neville Longbottom (who for some reason had a sword), he saw him.

Tom Riddle.

He didn’t look like Tom anymore. Horace wasn’t sure what he expected, but the creature wreaking havoc on the room wasn’t even human anymore. Horace pushed past a few of his students to reach the center of the room. Tom’s attention had narrowed onto one particular fighter, so Horace was able to get close without notice.

Minerva McGonagall was attempting to duel one-on-one with him, but it was rather one sided. The woman looked exhausted and she was spending as much time dodging Tom’s spells as she was shielding those around her. She couldn’t do this for much longer; or at least she couldn’t do this for much longer alone.

“Confringo!” cried Horace and Tom had to turn his attention away from the Transfiguration Mistress to deflect the fireball into wall.

The creature tilted his head in curiosity as he stared at his old mentor. “I didn’t expect to see you, Professor. I thought you’d run away again.”

“Just someone else you have underestimated,” Horace replied in a voice much braver sounding than he felt. Tom turned his wand and opened his mouth to curse him, but at the last second had to turn and cast a shield charm instead.

Minerva nodded at Horace with a sense of unity that made his heart swell. Her words came back to him for the hundredth time that night: _The time has come for Slytherin House to decide upon its loyalties_. For this first time in his life Horace did not hide behind anyone else. He was ready for this fight, even if it meant his death. He would rather be a hero who fell than the coward who bent the knee. Together, he and Minerva pushed forward on the offense throwing curse after curse at the creature who had become Lord Voldemort.

At one point he though his time had come but another spell shielded the whirling green energy that flew in his direction. To his left, a ruffled Kingsley Shacklebolt joined him at a jog, saying, “Need a wand?”

The three of them attacked, parried, and dodged for what seemed like ages. Horace knew there was other fighting going on around them, but all he could focus on was Tom, Minerva, and Kingsley. If the three of them could just take him down, the remainder of the Death Eaters would fall easily. Of course, there was a reason Lord Voldemort struck fear in the hearts of most: he was an incredible wizard of great power and an extraordinary dueler. Horace always knew he would do great things: terrible but great.

A woman’s voice cried out above the rest of the noise, but Horace didn’t have time to look back. He redirected flames that got a little too close for comfort. When he could see Tom again, it appeared that he was distracted. A roar flew through the fighters and Tom screamed a terrible shrill scream that made Horace’s skin crawl.

A shock wave of magic blasted him off his feet and all Horace saw was darkness.

_July 26, 1998_

The halls of Hogwarts were empty today. Over the past two months, it felt as if there were always people in the school. Due to the destruction of the castle during the battle, there was much work to be done to prepare it for another school year. Of course, it had not been officially decided that there would be one. The horrors of that night still haunted so many. It was hard to think Hogwarts would be ready to open her doors once again come September. Horace wasn’t sure he wanted to be there when it did. Perhaps retirement would be calmer this time around. 

Horace took solace in the quiet and listened to his own shoes tap against the stone. He was headed to the Headmistress’ office for a task the new Headmistress had set for him. After much debate, it had been decided that Severus Snape’s portrait would hang in the Head Office alongside all the other Headmasters. It seemed Harry Potter was convinced that Severus deserved the honor and once he had gotten Minerva on board, the others hadn’t had much say in the matter.

Minerva had sent him a note earlier that morning asking him to stop by her office to check on the portrait. Apparently, it had been sitting dormant ever since its creation. She thought that perhaps Horace would have some insight and he had told her he would investigate it at once.

To his knowledge, Severus Snape’s portrait would not be as traditional as the other Headmasters. Usually, when a professor becomes Headmaster, a portrait was created right away so that over the years, that professor can instill the wisdom and advice that would be needed of it. The portraits could learn to behave exactly like themselves more so than other magical portraits. However, Severus never had a portrait done before his death. Instead, a rather ingenious artist had people who knew Severus during his life sit with him while he painted and fill him with knowledge about the Headmaster. Between that and the memories Severus had given Harry before he died, they had all hoped that the portrait would be an accurate portrayal of the man.

The spiral staircase leading up to the office was unguarded, but there was no need for passwords right now. The staff had decided that the Headmaster’s, or in this case, Headmistress’ office would be open to all who needed it, so that a student could always find help. Minerva’s personal rooms would be guarded instead. Horace ascended the staircase to find the other portraits talking amiably to one another.

“Ah, Horace, how good to see you!” Albus called from where he hung beside the desk, a wide smile on his face. A few other faces greeted him by name as well, especially the few Slytherin Headmasters. Horace waved his hellos.

“Thank you, thank you. I’m doing well. But I do have a task to accomplish, so I must ask for some privacy.” There was a bit of grumbling, but it seemed they all knew why he was there. So, one by one, they all left blank canvases behind them until only Albus and a still portrait of Severus remained. “Any advice for an old man, Albus?”

“Hmm?” Albus popped some sort of yellow sweet into his mouth and got up to leave. “Oh, I daresay you’ll know what to do, old friend.”

Horace sighed and summoned one of the straight back chairs closer to the wall on which Severus’s portrait had been hung. Jet black hair and dark coal eyes stared at him, unmoving. He had been thirty-eight when he died. Much too young, he mused. Horace himself was nearing a hundred with every day that passed. Although he told his friends that he didn’t feel a day over seventy-five, he was feeling his age more and more. Thirty-eight was too young to die. So was seventeen. And fourteen.

Another sigh escaped him. They had buried too many students after the battle. But he couldn’t lose track of the task at hand. He had been doing his grieving all summer. Today was about Severus and the reflection of his life, not his death.

“Well, my boy, you’ve started to worry some people. Mr. Potter worked very hard to have this portrait commissioned and it’s about time you start talking.” Silence met him. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. You never needed many words, not even as a student. Oh, you were bright. A marvel to have in my class, if I do say so myself. I like to remind people that I taught you everything you know.”

Horace chuckled at his own joke, but then frowned. “But that is a bit of a lie, I guess. You always had a knack for figuring things out on your own. Which is why it was surprising that you took up with all of those boys to become a Death Eater. Some of the other professors said that I shouldn’t be so shocked. You hung out with the wrong crowd, they said. Why wouldn’t he be a killer like all the rest?

“But what crowd were you supposed to be with? Those boys were in your house and would marry girls in your house. Slytherins, all of them. Who were you supposed to be with? You always had your eye on precious Lily, but she had her own friends and you would have never been welcome there. As much as the other houses talk about interhouse unity, they push the Slytherins away as much as we isolate ourselves. Those Gryffindors were terrible to you, I know it. We all knew it. But nothing was ever done about it.

“I recall getting asked so many times: Why did you never join Lord Voldemort? Aren’t you a Slytherin? I never had an answer for them, not really. It was as if I was an oddity, not signing up to murder Muggles and Muggleborns. I wasn’t really, though. There were so many Slytherins who live normal lives and never stepped a toe out of line. And so many more who were wrapped up in such darkness from a young age that they feared their own lives and livelihoods if they refused to join. Like that Malfoy boy of yours.”

Horace stopped talking as Draco entered his mind. No one had heard from the Malfoys since they had fled the castle during the battle. There were conflicting reports as to what Draco’s role had been. He glanced back at the unmoving portrait and said, “I know you tried to save him. You saw the road he was on and tried to keep him from it. Maybe if I had done that there would be no Death Eaters and no Lord Voldemort. Are all those followers of his truly evil or could they have lived purer lives if Lord Voldemort had remained Tom Riddle? Would Slytherin have this stain upon it if I had tried to shape a young man’s life in a different direction?”

“Perhaps.”

The sound of the deep voice nearly toppled Horace out of his chair. Severus was looking directly at him now. Although he remained very still, the portrait had come to life, evident by the rise and fall of the man’s chest and the occasional blink of his eyes.

Setting his startled nerves aside, Horace stared back at him, asking, “Do you think every Slytherin has to make the choice between good and evil?”

“Yes.”

Standing, Horace harrumphed. “I refuse to believe that is true. What is it Albus used to say about the choice between what is right and what is easy? I will be the first to admit that I often have chosen the easier path in life. How can we expect children to make the hard choice, when grown men cannot? No, I will not give into your cynicism. Slytherins are just as inherently good as any other house, but their choices are not as simple.”

“Is that so?”

“Perhaps I could have prevented Tom from becoming who he would, but there are people in this world who will never want to make the right choice. You cannot stop fate. But perhaps if students knew there was a way out and had someone to help them…” Horace trailed off. That was supposed to be their job, as professors. Not just to teach lessons, but to guide young souls through life as well. Horace had always tried to do best by his students, but perhaps he should have done more. They all should have done more.

But only a Slytherin could understand the choices faced by the members of his house. Those children facing years of pureblood ideologies and bigotry needed someone who knew the kind of lives they came from to help them. The Head of Slytherin had of course, always been a professor who had been in the same house. But other than that, there were very few Slytherins on the staff.

“Hello, Minerva,” spoke the portrait, pulling Horace from his thoughts. Horace whirled around to see a very shocked Headmistress setting her pointed hat down on the desk.

“Severus,” she murmured in reply. Her eyes caught Horace’s. “Thank you, Horace, I can see I asked the right person for help.”

“Yes, yes, very well.” Horace said hastily, his mind still whirling. Portrait Severus raised an eyebrow, as if to prod him on. “There’s just one thing, Minerva, dear. I know we had talked about the possibility of my retirement, but I will be staying on. Yes…I will be staying on. Hogwarts needs a Slytherin on the staff. You know, perhaps you should look into that.”

“Look into what?” Minerva was staring at him as if he had finally lost his mind. Her eyes slipped past him to study the portrait, but Severus only blinked.

“Hiring a few Slytherins. We need more Slytherins…” Yes, this was the solution. The only way to turn the tide and keep the past from repeating itself. Horace had made up his mind. He would stay at Hogwarts until he felt that all of his students were reached or until his death. Whichever came first. In the future, they would be able to say they did everything they could to prevent the rise of another Dark Wizard and hopefully, there would be less souls to corrupt along the way.

The Slytherin had made his choice. Now it was time for Hogwarts to make hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came up with the idea for this story nine years ago. At the time, I published two chapters and never finished. Different fandoms have come and gone. But here I am, finally finishing this story. I'm very happy with how this turned out. Thank you for reading!


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